


réunion

by eliottamoureux



Series: tumblr drabbles/prompt fills [21]
Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: M/M, but then they get back together of course!, the prompt involves them being broken up but i made it so that they're taking a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21516397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eliottamoureux/pseuds/eliottamoureux
Summary: You’re my ex but I think I still have feelings for you;&You caught me doing something dangerous and flipped out
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Series: tumblr drabbles/prompt fills [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1419991
Kudos: 182





	réunion

**Author's Note:**

> you guys know the drill for these, by now— [this was originally posted on my tumblr](https://eliottamoureux.tumblr.com/post/188617581182/could-you-please-do-24-or-49). read it on there if you like, or request stuff of your own!! hope you enjoy. <3

When Eliott hears that Lucas is coming back, it makes him go weak in the knees. **  
**

The end of their relationship was a mutual thing, less of a _it’s over_ and more of a _maybe we should take a break,_

a _i don’t want you to feel held back while you’re abroad,_

an _it’s only a year, maybe we can try and pick up where we left off, once I’m back._

He goes to the airport with the gang, will several brightly coloured _welcome home Lucas!_ signs in hand. Eliott hasn’t travelled by plane for a few years, and he’s truly forgotten how suffocating airports can be. People flood out of each gate, arrivals and departures, coming and going. If he were here alone, he may have considered going home, but Arthur places a gentle hand on his shoulder, smiling over at him reassuringly. 

He nearly drops his sign, when he sees Lucas. 

Eliott knows that a year isn’t a very long time, in the grand scheme of things. He’s lived through nearly twenty two of them, so a year is less than five percent of his life.

On the other hand, though— one year is half of their relationship. They’ve been apart for half as long as they were together.

But now, _now_ — Lucas is here, so different and so much the same. He’s stood there, a duffel bag slung around his shoulder. The red of his shirt brings out the colour of his eyes, the same beautiful, soft blue that they’ve always been. A light blush colours Eliott’s cheeks, when he remembers all of the times that he borrowed that shirt, loose enough on Lucas to fit him properly.

He grins at Arthur and Basile and Yann, but when their eyes meet, Eliott can see the way Lucas’ breath catches. It’s only momentary, and then he’s charging at them as they meet him in the middle, smiling, and hugging, and joking— but it was long enough for Eliott to notice.

They fall into their old routine like Lucas had never left, right from the train ride home. They had all been texting him, and Eliott hangs out with them regularly, but Lucas had always been the glue, the core. Now he’s back, a missing puzzle piece found once again, and it’s tangible, the way they’re all better for it. There’s something about Lucas, he brightens every room he enters. And it’s evident that being reunited with his best friends and friend-turned-boyfriend-turned-who-knows has put him in a good mood.

Eliott didn’t realize how much he missed Lucas’ laugh, until now.

—

He’s hesitant, to spend time alone with Lucas.

It’s been a few days since Lucas’ return, and during the brief moments that they’ve shared since then, things fall into an awkward silence. Before, he would wax poetic about the way that the evening light is hitting Lucas’ jawline, pressing a kiss to it while Lucas rolls his eyes. He wants to, but he feels like he can’t. It hurts, almost— things used to be easy, between them. He’ll look at Lucas to find Lucas already looking at him, but then they both divert their gaze immediately after. It hurts the most because this is _his_ doing, their “break” was his idea. He’ll want to ask Lucas what changed, while he was away, why things can’t be the way they were; why everything feels so tense between them now. 

Why Lucas doesn’t seem to want to spend time with him, anymore.

Before he can, though, Arthur and Basile always come barrelling back into the room, with Yann close behind, and they fall into old routines as if nothing had happened.

But Eliott doesn’t forget about it. He can’t ignore the way his entire body aches, to reach out toward Lucas, to pull him in, to—

“Eliott?” He blinks back out of his thoughts and into the real world to see Arthur looking over at him.

“Hm? Sorry, I was just, ah, thinking.” He says, tries to sound as noncommittal as possible, tries to pretend that he doesn’t glance over at Lucas, out of instinct.

Tries to ignore the way he feels just a little bit hollow, when he sees that Lucas isn’t looking at him.

“We were gonna go out tonight, to celebrate le gang being back together.” He smiles in that typical Arthur way, that says _don’t feel obligated to come_ , “You up for it?”When Arthur looks at Lucas, they smile— Eliott realizes that this is the first time he’s seen Lucas smile today. Eliott thinks about it, looking around the room as he does, and as his eyes meet Lucas again, he sees his eyes flick quickly, down toward the floor. He’s never been the partying, clubbing type, not really. He enjoys it every once in a while, but he’s more of a fan of get-togethers, with a few friends. 

But now is a time for celebration, even if Lucas makes his chest feel hollow.

“Of course.” He says, as if he hadn’t just been heavily contemplating. “Where and when?” He asks as the boys cheer.

When he looks at Lucas again, he’s still looking down toward the floor. This time, though, that small smile is back.

—

The moment they step through the door of the club, Eliott feels a mild amount of regret.

There must have been dozens, if not _hundreds_ of people who agreed that tonight was a good night to celebrate— at _this_ club specifically. Before he can let his regret accumulate, though, Basile is dragging him to the bar. A moment later, there’s a drink in his hand— he’s not sure what, exactly, since Arthur ordered for everyone, but it reeks of vodka. He hasn’t had a drink in months, and his therapist has told him that alcohol shouldn’t impact him, if he drinks in moderation. And so, without a further thought, he chugs it, winces at the way it burns as it slides down his throat.

A couple other drinks follow throughout the night, each burns him less than the last. He drinks enough for everything to feel loose and warm and good, enough to move and talk and dance without abandon. _Le gang_ comes and goes, he dances with them and with others, lets himself feel good— really and truly _good_ — for the first time in months. The alcohol in his system lets him think about what he wants, rather than being plagued by thoughts of _Lucas, Lucas, Lucas_ —

He stops that train of thought immediately. Lets himself focus on the movement of his limbs, on the throbbing base of whatever dance song is playing at the moment, on the dimly lit bodies as everyone in the room moves together.

But then, of course— because the world is cruel— his eyes land on Lucas.

Dancing with someone else.

He doesn’t recognize this other boy, but he hates him immediately. They’re at the edge of the crowd, some space between them and the other club-goers, enough for Eliott to see the boy’s hand roam, and _dip_ —

In a moment, though, Lucas’ expression goes from content to confused, he turns himself around to face the boy he’s dancing with. They’re talking, but Eliott’s too far away to tell what it is they’re talking about. The boy leans in again, but Lucas pushes him away, anger now plain on his face. Eliott stops to watch, and starts toward the pair instinctively. The boy is insistent, Lucas equally so, and Eliott is about halfway to Lucas when—

_Thump._

The boy recoils from Lucas’ punch, staring at him with wide eyes as he holds his jaw, the site of the impact. He’s on Lucas in a moment, and Eliott gets to them at the same time as security does. He’s ready to pull them apart, but the guard is one step ahead of him— and he’s grateful for it, the burly man makes it look effortless, and Eliott seriously doubts his abilities to separate them, anyway. His hand is on Lucas’ shoulder, and Lucas’ eyes go wide when he sees him.

“Eliott?”

“Are you with him?” The guard asks.

“Yes,” Eliott responds without hesitation. 

“Then I highly suggest you leave the premises, both of you.” The guard says, and Eliott nods quickly, pulling Lucas out of the club and into the cool air of the night.

—

They walk aimlessly through the streets, sitting themselves down on a park bench. Eliott’s not sure how late it is or how long it’s been— his phone died a while ago. Lucas is cradling one hand with the other, and even in the dimly lit park, Eliott can see the angry redness of a budding bruise across his knuckles.

“I’m sorry.” Eliott’s not sure if he’s saying it to Lucas, or simply to the night sky.

“Sorry?” Lucas is turning to him, then. He wonders how his eyes shine, even in the middle of the night. “For what?”

“I don’t know,” Eliott shrugs. It simply felt right— and there’s so many things he wants to apologize for. “For not paying better attention. For not getting to you faster.” _For keeping the fact that I’m still in love with you from you, for avoiding you, for—_ “For not stopping whatever that was from happening.”

“Eliott, don’t—” Lucas comes in closer, and Eliott almost pulls back, out of instinct. Lucas puts a hand on his — his non-bruised one— and Eliott feels like he’s been set ablaze. “Hey, it’s not your fault that guy happened to be a creep, okay? Tonight was supposed to be a night for all of us to have a good time. _I’m_ sorry I ruined that for you.” Guilt creeps in, Lucas should be the last one to be apologizing, in a situation like this, but Eliott lets the apology hang between them in the air.

“I guess we’re both sorry, then.” A mocking impression of one of the things that he said during their first meeting. Lucas hums in affirmation, and silence follows once again. It creeps in on them, nearly suffocating, but then Lucas is hissing with pain as he tries to straighten out his fingers.

“Let me see,” Eliott says, taking Lucas’ bruised hand in both of his. He looks it over, running his fingers over the rough skin. He handles it gently, so gently— he doesn’t want to make things worse. 

There’s just enough alcohol left in his system, for what comes next— for him to lace their fingers together; for him to press a kiss to Lucas’ knuckles, feather-light but very much there, without giving much thought to it. He closes his eyes as he does it though, unable to take Lucas’ reaction, whether it’s good or bad, because he _wants_ so badly, so cripplingly that he just might die from it—

“Eliott,” Lucas says, and he no realizes how much he missed his name on Lucas’ tongue, especially like this, when it sounds punched out of him.

“I’m sorry,” He says, again, his eyes still closed as he pulls back, “I just—”

But he’s interrupted by Lucas kissing him. Kissing him so hard that he’s nearly thrown back by the momentum of it. Part of him wants to cry, because he’s been aching for this for months— if he’s honest with himself, since the moment that they made the decision to take a break. But instead he gathers himself up to kiss Lucas back, to reciprocate with everything he has in him. When they pull back, they rest their foreheads together— _just like we used to_ , Eliott’s brain provides— and breathe together, the only audible sound in the quiet park.

“I didn’t know.” Lucas says, still close enough that his breath fans out against Eliott’s cheek.

“Didn’t know what?”

Lucas takes a breath, swallows. “Just— after everything, me being away for so long, I didn’t know if you had moved on, or—”

“I could never.” The sheer thought of him moving on while Lucas was away is so absurd that it almost makes him laugh. He wants to take Lucas, to shake him, wants to say _you are the only person I have ever loved like this_ , wants to say _I will never love this much, this deep, ever again, for anyone but you._

“You weren’t looking at me.” And Eliott’s confused, then. 

“Lucas, what do you—” _What do you mean_ , he nearly says. He’s not sure how Lucas could miss the way he looks at him, every single chance he gets.

But Lucas interrupts him.

“Really looking, Eliott,” Lucas pulls away, then. They’re still close, but now Eliott can see Lucas’ expression. So determined yet so _open_ , he’s missed seeing Lucas like this. “like you used to.”

“You really think that I can keep my eyes off of you?” And he suddenly can’t resist, now that he knows that Lucas feels the same— _still_ feels the same— and so he kisses him, gentler this time. “Because I can’t, I never could. Just because we’ve been apart doesn’t mean I stopped thinking about you.”

“Yeah?” Lucas asks, in that same way that he always used to: turns his chin upward a bit, a smile on his face that’s almost teasing, and breathes out _ah, ouais?_ And really, this time around, it’s not Eliott’s fault for pressing their lips together again. Not when Lucas is slipping back into their old patterns and pulling him along for the ride.

Though, Eliott would be lying if he said that he wasn’t willing.

“Every moment, of every day.” And it’s the truth, Lucas has crept into every aspect of Eliott’s life, and their time apart changed nothing about that.

“Fuck,” Lucas shakes his head, still smiling, “I’m sorry I didn’t fuck up my hand sooner, then.”

“I’d like to think this would have happened, even with your hand intact.” Eliott likes to think that they were destined to be together, were destined to be back together, no matter how they got there. All that matters is this moment, this _minute_ , because everything is piecing itself back together again.

“In a parallel universe somewhere, I’m sure it did.” Lucas laughs, and the sound fills his heart to the brim, makes it overflow. “It’s worth it in this one, though.” Then they’re both laughing, and kissing. Even though the alcohol has worn almost entirely off, he feels drunk on Lucas’ presence, on the newness, yet the familiarity, of it all.

“Yeah?” Eliott takes Lucas’ hand in his again, presses another kiss to it, before getting up to lead him home. “I think so, too.”


End file.
